


It Wasn't Love

by KainichivonDiamond



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-23 00:06:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2526653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KainichivonDiamond/pseuds/KainichivonDiamond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't love, of that Clint was certain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Wasn't Love

It wasn’t love.

No, it wasn’t love. Hell, he wouldn’t even call it a crush. Not just because ‘crush’ was a term better suited for a fourteen-year-old girl rather than a trained killer, but because ‘crush’ implied butterflies in the gut and your chest feeling all warm and fuzzy. No, what Clint felt was pure and simple: lust.

It was /desire/. Clint didn’t want the scientist, not any real sort of way; he simply wanted to fuck him. Part of it was simple attraction; Bruce was a good looking man, in a vulnerable sort of way. Cute. But a larger part of it was the rush Clint always got from dangerous sex. The thought of sleeping with the man who could turn into a city-wrecking beast…well, that’d certainly top the time he’d convinced Natasha that a quickie while infiltrating an enemy base /wasn’t/ a mind-numbingly stupid idea.

It wasn’t love, and that was fine.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

It wasn’t love.

No, it wasn’t love. But…perhaps it was something closer to a crush. Still not a crush, because Clint still wasn’t a fourteen-year-old girl.

It started with a laugh. Bruce’s laugh, to be specific. It had been a surprise, getting the man to laugh for the first time. It was a nice laugh, a deep and crisp one that had his shoulders shaking lightly. And then, after he seemed to realize that he’d laughed, his face had turned red and he’d locked his eyes on the cup of coffee he refused to let Clint pay for.

It had passed in an instant, a brief moment where Clint felt something warm in his chest. He didn’t pay it much attention though, just pushed past it and dived back into teasing/flirting. Sex was still his goal but…maybe getting to know Bruce a little more wouldn’t hurt.

It wasn’t love, but maybe it was more than lust.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

It wasn’t love.

No, it was frustration, it was damn irritation. Clint spent much more time in the lab, just watching Bruce work because damn, the man made smart look sexy. He liked watching the way Bruce would silently move his mouth as he worked, as if talking to himself. Or the way he’d worry at his bottom lip when trying to figure out something. Or even the way he’d sigh and rub at his eyes under his glasses when a problem frustrated him.

What he didn’t like was the way he forgot to eat, often overlooking the plates of food that Clint left out for him. He didn’t like the way Bruce would talk about the Hulk, seemingly ignoring Clint’s protests and defenses of the green beast. He didn’t like the way Bruce would talk about himself, disregarding himself without even realizing it.

He hated the way Bruce always smiled at Tony without Tony really trying. Or the way he’d let Tony place a hand on his shoulder, or playfully pat his cheek, or just anything that Clint knew, if he tried, Bruce would pull away.

It wasn’t love, it was just anger-inducing.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

It wasn’t love.

No, it wasn’t love, but whatever it was, Clint didn’t care. He was just lost in the feel of Bruce’s lips on his. It wasn’t the steamiest kiss Clint had ever had, their lips were still closed and hardly more than just touching, but still…it was nice and he never wanted it to end.

So when it did, abruptly, Clint found himself confused. Bruce had shoved him back, a panicked look clear on his face. Clint stared at him, eyes tracking the nervous way Bruce’s tongue swiped over his own lips and fighting the urge to push forward and kiss him again. And then Bruce was apologizing and pulling away and Clint’s mind was too blank to react in time to pull him back.

His chest ached in a way he hadn’t felt in years, not since he was a stupid teenager.

It wasn’t love. It just wasn’t.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

It wasn’t love.

No, it wasn’t love. Love couldn’t feel this way. But whatever it was, it couldn’t be drowned by anything in Tony’s excellently stocked bar. No, that seemed to just make the ache in his chest even worse.

He chased the ache with swig after swig until the tall bottle was drained and then the only logical thought was to go see Bruce. To demand answers or to punch him or just something. Anything that would make this ache stop. And so he was jamming his thumb against the button for Bruce’s floor.

The door to Bruce’s living quarters opened and the scientist was standing there, looking surprised. He sighed, a frustrated sort of sound, when Clint pushed past him to get in. Even in his drunken state, Clint noticed the way Bruce’s nose wrinkled when he commented on said drunken state. Clint didn’t care.

There was yelling, mostly from Clint, and he found himself pushing Bruce against the wall. It was Tony, wasn’t it? Bruce wanted him? No, the scientist denied that. He did like Clint, more than Clint knew, and—that was as far as he got before Clint kissed him.

This kiss was harder than their first, messier thanks to Clint’s lack of coordination. But he was rewarded with the feeling of Bruce’s hands on his back before holding him closer, throwing in the metaphorical towel and kissing back just as hard.

It wasn’t love, but lord, was it great.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

It wasn’t love.

No, it wasn’t love. It couldn’t be love. Even if it was the first time in a long time that Clint had spent the night with someone without sex. Even if he found himself as the little spoon and was surprised at how much he enjoyed the feeling of Bruce’s warm chest at his back. And even if he found himself turning in his hold, not to make any move or anything, just to press his face against Bruce’s neck and smile.

No, it wasn’t love. Or at least, that’s what Clint could keep telling himself, even though it was becoming harder to believe.


End file.
